In the journey of my life, the encounter with Hannah is a truly wonderful stroke of fate. She is a Siamese cat, specifically the older sister of a tortoiseshell Siamese. I adopted her from her previous owner, who happened to be a male science – major academic high – achiever. In her previous life, Hannah was named Neutrino. She was constantly “immersed” in all kinds of high – end physical theories and serenaded by classical music every day. One can imagine that her former life was filled with an air of academia and art. However, when I brought her home, I renamed her after the philosopher Arendt. From then on, it seemed as if she “switched careers” from the field of physics and embarked on an “exploration” of philosophy, although it appears that she is not particularly enthusiastic about learning (recently, at the temporary sister’s place, she has started to get in touch with psychology).
When it comes to Hannah’s personality, the temporary sister once told me that she is extremely clingy. Strangely, though, I don’t feel this way at all. Thinking it over, perhaps it’s because I used to have a dog. Compared with the dog’s extreme dependence on its owner, Hannah’s behavior seems less clingy. After all, the benchmark for comparison is different. Measured against the standard of a dog, I actually enjoy the relationship with Hannah where we accompany each other yet maintain a certain distance.
Whenever I am burdened with papers and need to read in the living room until one or two o’clock in the morning, before half – past eleven, Hannah will always find a place in the living room to keep me company. Sometimes she lies gracefully on the table, as if curious about the book in my hand; sometimes she quietly lies on the ground, stretching her body; and sometimes she squeezes into the gap between the chair and the tabletop, only showing a small head. But once it’s past half – past eleven, she will go back to the bedroom to sleep on her own. Then, around one o’clock in the morning, she will come out on time, find me, and sleep with me, as if saying, “Master, it’s time for us to sleep together now.”
Hannah is also a real picky eater. Recently, my temporary sister and I noticed that she suddenly lost her appetite for canned food. This worried us so much that we suspected she might have hairball disease. However, after careful observation, we finally realized that she was simply turning her nose up at the cheap canned food. Generally speaking, Hannah is not very interested in human food, but she has a habit of always coming over to smell what you’re eating. KFC is an exception, though. Whenever someone in the house is eating KFC, as soon as the aroma wafts out, Hannah becomes extremely excited. To prevent her from stealing food, we have to lock her in another room. Once, I was eating KFC fries. Just as I opened the package, Hannah came running over like a gust of wind. Her eyes were fixed on the fries in my hand, and she meowed non – stop, looking as if she was saying, “Master, give me a little, just a little.” Looking at her pitiful appearance, I couldn’t bear it and gave her a small piece of fry. She quickly picked up the fry, ran to the side, and ate it with relish. In no time, one fry was completely gone, and then she ran back to ask me for more. Her gluttonous look was really amusing.
In my life, Hannah has become more than just a pet; she is like a special friend. She has her own unique personality, being picky about food yet having a special fondness for KFC, seemingly clingy but also having her own independent schedule. Her presence has added many special colors to my life. In those busy days, her company makes me feel a sense of peace and warmth; in those leisurely times, her naughtiness brings me endless joy. I’m very lucky to have met her, and I will always cherish this wonderful bond.
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